


Return of Revenge of Son of Watson’s Woes, #III

by NairobiWonders



Series: 2019 JWP [2]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Coffee, Dont play cricket in the house, F/M, Gen, Humor, Implied Drug Use, Joanlock - Freeform, Tea, Warning for the grossness of the thought of Mycroft even approaching Joan, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2019, absolutely fabulous - Freeform, implied alcohol abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-06-30 01:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19842244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders
Summary: Prompt 31 was choose a previous JWP prompt. I chose -Prompt #27 from July 2017 - Fix a Canon Scene. We all have those particular scenes in mind that we wish had gone differently.This takes place first episode of season two. We mercifully never saw the scene where Mycroft seduces Joan, but this is how it should have happened:





	1. Yellow Feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July 16 prompt: No Dogs Allowed: Put an animal in the story – one other than a dog.

“What is that?” Joan removed her glasses and looked around the brownstone library. A radio or maybe a video left running? A soft gritty voice hummed ... no, it sang ... and she couldn’t quite make out from where it came. Sherlock, his headphones on and immersed in wiretap recordings, remained oblivious to the noise and to her question. 

She went over, waved a hand before his face and made him remove the headphones. “Do you hear that? What is that?”

Sherlock annoyed at the interruption, grimaced at her at first, then listened. “Oh, that’s Clyde. I believe he’s singing “Copacabana.” He tilted his head and listened, then sang along for a bit, “Her name was Lola, she was a show girl...,’ Yes, definitely, Copacabana.” He nodded, satisfaction on his face at having id’d the song, but Watson’s shocked expression convinced him to explain further. “Ms. Hudson has been on a Manilow kick when she’s here cleaning and Clyde is just a little musical sponge.”

Her face registered what Sherlock took for anger, “Oh, I see, sorry.” He yelled towards the lock room, “Clyde! Hold it down. Mom and I are trying to work.”

From somewhere in the other room, a raspy little voice answered, “Sorry, pop. I’ll stop.”

Joan’s mouth dropped open even further as she tried to formulate words, questions, screams. She finally found her voice and asked the only thing a sensible person would, “Clyde calls us mom and pop?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part of the chapter 1 story found here on tumblr:  
> https://nairobiwonders.tumblr.com/post/174106439425/pop-pop-wake-up-the-raspy-voice-was-a-whisper


	2. “My Lover’s Keeper” by nairobiwonders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 17 - Going Gothic: Gothic novels/Romance – a popular source of entertainment! Incorporate this genre somehow into your work today, or even create your own bit of gothic fiction! Bonus point if you go extra cheesy...
> 
> I was desperate for an idea (again), so I broke the fourth wall (again) and threw myself in (again).

_Urging her steed ever faster, Joan Watson galloped through the dark, primeval forest. Her raven tresses flew in streams behind her, her blood red cloak billowed around and her heart beat wildly within her almost bare bosom. Fierce in her determination to save her beloved Sherlock from the clutches of that undead seductress, nothing would stop her reaching the castle. Their love, strong, deep and ever-so intimate shone like beacon of light before her to lead the way.”_

The bed rocked as Joan suddenly sat up, laptop in hand and yelled, “Oh my lord! Look at this crap!” 

From beside her, Sherlock put down his book and leaned in, “What is it?” 

“It’s that nairobiwonders person again. This is what? Like her thousandth story about us? Does she not have a life!” 

Sherlock looked over her shoulder and stifled a laugh as he read out loud: _“With both hands, Joan plunged the wooden stake into The Woman’s cold vampire heart. The dirty blonde’s vile screams bounced off the dungeon’s damp stone walls as her haggard, wrinkled face crumbled into dust ...”_

Sherlock stopped and winked at Joan, “Oh, Jaimie’s not going to like that bit. Here,” he took the laptop from Joan’s hands, “let’s send old Jaimie a link.”


	3. Pam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #18 - Spotlight a side character or an OFC; have Holmes and/or Watson appear or be mentioned, but only briefly (less than a paragraph, or a few sentences).
> 
> Pam, the snowplow driver (from “Snow Angels), is moving on.

With the contents of her locker packed into a cardboard box, Pam walked out of the building for the last time as an employee of the City of New York. She did a quick farewell tour of the truck yard as she searched for her baby. Finding it, she whispered a sweet good bye to her old snowplow; it looked ancient parked amongst the newer models but it still had a lot of life left. She gave the old girl a pat. 

The job had been dull as dishwater at times and exciting as all get out at others. That trip to East Rutherford had been a kick and a half. After that she’d become one of what the Brit called his “irregulars” and worked odd jobs as needed. 

She shifted the weight of the cardboard box onto her hip. Retirement and adventure awaited her on the other side of that chain linked fence. She and her ex were bound for Bali tomorrow. They’d split up a while back but that didn’t mean they weren’t still good friends. Funny how life worked. Pam had met her ex through Sherlock and Joan, one of the elders of those Everyone hackers. They’d taken a shine to each other on sight. Who knows, she thought, they might be able to find that spark again in Bali. 

She walked out the gate and onto the empty sidewalk. Pam would give the detectives a ring when she got back, let them know she was available full time and ready for anything. But first, blue waters, white sand and maybe one or two of those exotic fruity rum drinks with the little umbrellas.


	4. Calm the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #19 - Messing About In Boats: Include a water-based method of travel in today's offering.

Waves of heat, suffocating heat, rose and ebbed within her. Joan sat on deck, her face buffeted by the cold salt air; hoping that that same cold salt air that rocked the boat to and fro, and pitched it side to side, would ease the flush of nausea. She kept her eyes closed, shutting out the ever shifting horizon but she heard him come up and sit beside her. Sherlock carefully put an arm around her and guided her head to his shoulder. He dropped his cheek to the top of her head. “Sorry Watson, no ginger, not even a ginger ale to be found on the vessel.”

Joan responded with a faint, “I’m okay,” thankful for the anchoring of his head on hers, and the rock solid strength of him, providing a safe haven for her weakened body.

“We should be pulling into harbor shortly. We can try pressure points once more if you like.”

Joan said nothing and eyes shut, just held on to him. She heard the voice of a man asking if they were okay, if she needed something, followed by Sherlock’s response, “She’s fine. She gets seasick sometimes ...” Joan felt his mouth at her ear “...like a six year old.”

Joan managed a smile at the memory of Pam and their snowplow ride to New Jersey.


	5. Wake up Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July 20 prompt - Your work today should include an issue  
> with sleeping (Somnambulism, exhaustion, insomnia, etc)

“So, you’re complaining because he brings you breakfast in bed?”

Joan set the coffee cup in front of her sister. “Yes. Well, no. I mean it’s the waking me up part that’s annoying. Roosters, Clyde in little outfits, Morse code, playing his violin for me ... “

Lin squinted at her, not sure if Joan was boasting or complaining. 

“And ... and going through my closet and picking out clothes for me! Although he does have good taste. The outfits he’s bought have also been quite...”

“Wait, wait, wait ... he picks out your clothes, even buys you clothes, and you wear them?”

“Yes. That I don’t mind at all. Like I said he has a good eye for fit and style. Even shoes...”

“Then what are you mad about?”

“The waking me up. The walking into my room and waking me up out of a sound sleep.”

“Have you ever told him to get out? actually closed the door? locked it? maybe put a chain lock on it?”

“No, no ...it’s not that simple ... we don’t have locked doors between us. We work odd hours. He might need to talk to me ...”

Lin smiled over the rim of her cup, “You two have a weird little relationship going on here. Admit it, you enjoy it as much as he does. It’s some kind of sub/dom dom/sub thing but I don’t really know who is which.”

Irritated by Lin perhaps getting too close to the truth, Joan stood up, rolled her eyes and shook her head, “You are no help at all.”


	6. Con

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #21 I’ve Got a Secret: Joan Watson reveals a secret she's been hiding her  
> entire life. Bonus point if the secret is that Watson is a vampire.

“Sherlock, I have something I must confess.”

He tore himself away from the mosaic of photographs over the mantel and turned to face Watson. He said nothing, just cocked his head and waited. 

“I’m surprised that after all these years together, you haven’t found me out.” She paced in front of him, “It started in high school. I fell in with the wrong crowd.... one thing led to another and ...” Joan paused dramatically. 

Sherlock crossed his arms and cocked his head in the other direction.

“I ... am ... a vampire!” Joan bared her fangs at him and hissed. 

Sherlock sighed, “Must we do this every time you go to one of your little conventions?”

Joan smiled a fangy-smile at him and nodded. 

He couldn’t help but smirk back at her. “Go on. Off with you.” He shooed her towards the door, “Just remember to be back before sunrise.”


	7. Panacea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #22 Sweet tooth: Today's entry should include candy/dessert/sugar/chocolate in some way.
> 
> I’ve lost all pride, I have no shame ... but I have chocolate.

__

**Me:** I don’t want to write any more Watson and Holmes stories. I’m tired. I’ve put them in every situation imaginable. I am not a Joanlock machine! Do you understand? No! More!

 **Responsible Me:** You committed to this and you will do it. You’re just cranky ‘cause you didn’t get a birthday cake last week. Here have a cookie ... (puts one in my mouth and sets the open bag of Milanos in front of me) ... and you know it doesn’t have to be Joan and Sherlock it could be canon or Ritchie-verse...

 **Me:** (interrupting with a mouthful of cookies) No! I don’t want to! I am tired of all Holmeses and all Watsons and Lestrades, Bells, Gregsons, Kittys, Irenes...

 **Responsible Me:** Shut up for goodness sake! First of all, you’re spewing cookie crumbs and second, you do this every day. You know you’re going to write some god awful fluff eventually so just shut up and do it. Here (unwraps a supersized chocolate bar, breaks it into pieces, jams them in my mouth).

(Chewing ensues, coffee appears, writing commences)

***  
Sherlock, head bent and a scowl on his face, types away at his computer. 

Joan walks up and stands behind him. “Open your mouth.”

Being an obedient sort, at least when it comes to her and direct commands, he complies. 

She plops in a big chunk of a chocolate brownie, warm, gooey and fresh from the oven. His eyes close with pleasure as he chews. 

“When you’re ready to take a break, come down to the kitchen. I’ve made a fresh pot of coffee too, that good weasel puke coffee.” Joan walks away and heads downstairs with Sherlock following closely behind.


	8. And Odysseus returns, disguised as an old beggar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #23 Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue, Remove the Impossible and What's Left Is True: Be poetic! Write a poem, or have the characters reference or quote poetry. Music lyrics count.
> 
> My heavy handed attempt at poetry... I think it can be considered poetry. Post Reichenbach.

Watson waits

The bees are tended too and  
reassured their master is not dead  
He will come back

Watson waits

During the day there is no mention of his name  
Except for gravesite visits where it is called in   
whispered cries

Watson waits

At night the yarns are spun  
Enough to fill a casebook  
Woven and undone  
Woven and undone 

Watson waits

Two years pass,   
and then it’s almost three   
and Watson can no longer wait

The bibliophile bends and spins   
and so does Watson’s world  
A thousand apologies will never be enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously not meant at all to be Homeric verse. I just liked the thought of post-Reichenbach Watson as Penelope. Kept Watson as genderless as possible so it can apply to all Watsons.


	9. Storms, lights, beds, yada, yada, yada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #24 - Old Tropes Are The Best Tropes: Use or be inspired by one or more classic tropes in your work today. Examples of classic tropes include: they had to share a room and there was only one bed; it was a dark and stormy night; the doctor needing doctoring; ugly duckling turns into a swan; and so on. If you use one not in the examples, be sure to tell us what it is!

It had been worth the long drive upstate. St. Michael’s School for Boys provided the last piece of evidence to tie their suspect to the victim. The quiet emptiness of the school during winter break benefited Sherlock’s and Joan’s investigation. They were done quickly and ready to head home. But the view from the common room’s windows looked bleak. 

“This storm shows no sign of letting up,” Joan stood at the window. “There’s a travel advisory. We are not getting back to the City tonight.” As if on cue, the lights flickered and went out.

“Indeed.” Sherlock scrolled through a text on his phone, “The headmaster has just very kindly opened up the boys’ dormitory for our use should we wish to spend the night.”

The second floor dormitory was a large room with rows of bunk beds, blanketed and ready for use. Joan and Sherlock walked through the darkened space and inspected their choices.

“Where do you want to sleep?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about this one? Close to the window. We can watch the storm.”

Sherlock climbed up to the top bunk, extended a hand and helped Watson up. With a kerplunk, shoes were dropped onto the floor below and then jackets removed. Joan inched back and fit herself against him. They watched the storm until they fell asleep.


	10. Noir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #25 - Use at least three of the  
> following words and phrases in your work today. Use all of them, and you’re  
> halfway to the All the Words bonus point for this year.  
> 1\. Blood  
> 2\. Thunder  
> 3\. The British workman  
> 4\. Rain  
> 5\. Bullet  
> 6\. "What is it? A fire?"  
> 7\. Vox populi, vox dei  
> 8\. Dread  
> 9\. Grotesque  
> 10\. Horror  
> 11\. Malapert

A clap of thunder. Joan woke with a start. The wind rattled and the rain battered the windows but it was not that that which had startled her awake. A sense of dread filled her as she waited. There, a gunshot, and then another - bullets were being fired upstairs.

She jumped out of bed. Rushing up to the third floor she expected the worst - the horror of her partner, dead, face a grotesque mask, laying in a pool of blood. Her heart raced as she made the landing and burst into the room.

Seven televisions blared, black and white images flickered, and Sherlock bowl of popcorn in hand looked at her calmly, “Something wrong Watson?”


	11. Too darn hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #26 - It Is July, After All: London can be brutal in the summertime. Let’s have some hot sweaty *London* and Holmes and Watson being hot and sweaty in it, all while trying to solve crimes and not strangle each other.  
> (*switched that to NYC*)

Joan watched the bead of sweat travel down the straight path of his nose and then just hang there at the tip, like a tiny jewel. Mesmerized she waited for it to drop.

“Watson!” 

Joan jumped at the sharp call of her name. 

“Are you watching me sweat?” He spoke still in profile, his eyes on the crime board. “We have a murderer to catch. Surely that must be more interesting.”

Joan did not like the reprimanding tone of his voice and responded equally as sharply. “It’s like a 108 degrees outside and not much better in here. It is too damn hot to even think right now. I thought you said the air guy was coming by this afternoon.”

The air conditioning was out and Watson and Holmes were down to their skivvies. The buttoned up shirts and suits had been peeled off and discarded during the course of the morning’s work. 

Sherlock, bare-chested, and sporting a pair of trunks continued to glower doggedly at the wall of suspects.

Joan, in a tank top and short shorts, moved over to stand in front of the floorfan they’d dragged into the library. She bent slightly at the waist to get the full force of the air on her face, tilting one way and then the other in an effort to cool off.

His eyes wandered from his task and he watched her body swaying, wisps of hair floating round her head in the fan’s breeze, and soon enough his mind was wandering as well as his eyes. 

Joan turned to let the fan’s breeze swipe across her back and caught the look on his face.

Sherlock immediately looked away and irritably wiped the sweat from his face. “This is getting us nowhere.” 

Joan smirked, “Perhaps a cold shower will help.”

Sherlock turned and squinted at her for a full second before nodding, “Perhaps.” He assessed her stance before continuing in a very much less strident form. “I’m willing to try anything that will return our concentration to the work.”

A small smile crossed her face. She took a step towards him and as he reached out towards her, the doorbell rang.


	12. The past comes knocking at the door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #27: A Most Unusual Patient: Watson receives an unusual patient whose presence inspires today’s work. 
> 
> An Ab-Fab crossover of sorts. Sherlock’s past comes looking for help. Previous Watson Woes intro to Sherlock’s friends from his less than sober days can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7361593/chapters/17060884
> 
> “photo” is hopefully linked at bottom of story.

Sherlock chided himself for not checking before he opened the front door. Patsy and Edina poured in before he could stop them.

“Hey Sherls, how’re ya luv?” Patsy slurred by him. “Is your bird here? She’s a doc isn’t she?”

Edina stood teetering beside her with a half thawed bag of ice to her head. “Sherly, sweetie darling, it’s been ages.” She tweaked her mouth to the side and sent a kiss in his direction. “Got anything to drink?”

“Watson! Watson I need your assistance ... please!”

Joan dropped what she was doing and came running. The addition of that “please” to his request meant he was in trouble - anything from being in the clutches of Moriarty to a boa constrictor was a possibility. She rounded the corner and immediately regretted coming to his aid.

“You remember Patsy and this is Eddie...” Sherlock’s introductions were cut off by Edina’s sudden charge towards Joan.

“You’ve got to help me doctor! I’m dying!” And to emphasize the gravity of her condition, she dramatically swooned (making sure Sherlock was there to catch her). He rolled his eyes and dragged her to the library sofa and quickly backed away.

“Inhaling the alcohol fumes she reeks of is almost enough to qualify as a breach to my sobriety,” he muttered as he passed by Joan.

Joan took charge. In her most professional manner, she pulled the story out of Patsy who was going through the bookcase looking for hidden bottles.

Edina had passed out The Rank Dive Bistro, hit her head on the bar, came to a few minutes later and the pair came to the conclusion she was dying from a concussion. Being in the country illegally, they shunned a hospital visit for fear of deportation and, after a couple hours more of the happy hour specials, rushed to the brownstone.

Joan examined Edina and except for the level of alcohol and what-not in her system, gave her a clean bill of health.

“Are you sure? No pills? Nothing? I am in pain you know? A prescription for a lil somethin’ somethin’?maybe?”

“Nope. I don’t give out prescriptions...” Joan stood and went over to Sherlock who was currently extricating Clyde from Patsy’s clutch bag.

“Not a drop of anything in the house,” she tutted. “You used to be fun, our little Locky-baby.”To Sherlock’s dismay and Joan’s astonishment, Patsy grabbed his face with one hand and gave him a squish.

Edina and her half bag of ice sloshed up behind Joan, “Come on, Patz. This one’s no fun either. Won’t give me anything.”

Much to their hosts relief, the pair made their serpentine way towards the door. Almost out, Patsy turned towards Sherlock, “Almost forgot, I found this. Thought you might like to have.”

Sherlock vainly attempted to grab the photograph before Joan saw it. But the snort of laughter told him it was too late.

Photo: [kisses from Patsy and Edina ](https://nairobiwonders.tumblr.com/post/186596112545)


	13. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #28: Everyone has an addiction of one sort or another. Select one to spotlight in today's entry.

Ms. Hudson sat at the head of the kitchen table while Joan and Sherlock sat side by side. 

“So, what is this about?” Sherlock fidgeted with his cup of tea while he waited for an answer. 

Ms. Hudson took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy. Confronting people, even when well intentioned and necessary, was never easy. 

Joan looked at her with nothing but kindness, “It’s alright. Whatever it is, we’re here fo you.” She blew on her cup of tea and took a careful sip.

Ms. Hudson looked down at her hands and spoke rapidly. “You two are out of control. The amount of caffeine you two consume on a daily basis between coffees and teas is astronomical. It cannot be good for either of you. For the sake of your health, consider cutting back, at least decaf coffee or herbal teas. I’m worried about you. It’s nonstop throughout the day and night and really ... I think it’s ... an ... addiction.” She closed her eyes and waited for their anger. 

Joan and Sherlock looked at each other and shrugged.

“Ms. Hudson.” The quiet gentle tone of Sherlock’s voice allowed her to relax enough to look at him. “I am a recovering heroin addict. Caffeine addiction is the least of my worries. But I appreciate your concern.” He took another sip from his cup.

“And I, well, I live with him,“ Joan tilted her head towards her partners did smiled. 

“Another cup, Watson?” Sherlock stood and reached for her cup.

“Yes. Thank you.” 

Ms. Hudson rolled her eyes and resignedly shook her head. “I’ll take a cup too please. White Darjeeling, upper cabinet, behind those biscuits no one likes.”


	14. Special Agent Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #29: Crossover involving a crime investigator from another universe.

Sherlock lifted the yellow crime scene tape, crossed and held it aloft for his partner. Police, uniformed and otherwise, were milling about the alley. The victim lay flat on his back, a large man, well dressed and very dead.

Marcus stood talking to some one who knelt, examining the victim.

Sherlock scowled. “What the devil are you doing here?”

Marcus turned and with relief greeted the consulting detectives, “You know Special Agent Mulder? He’s been uh assisting ... has an interesting theory.”

“I’m sure he does. Watson, you remember SpookyFox42, our acquaintance from the conspiracy boards don’t you?” She smiled and nodded as Mulder rose and faced them.

He gave Watson a lopsided smile and turned to her partner. “Hey Sherlock, fancy meeting you here.” Again the flash of a charming boyish smile that had no affect on Sherlock other than deepening his annoyance. “Hope you don’t mind me horning in on your territory?”

“I thought the FBI tossed you out on your ear.”

“Well, Yes and no ... it’s complicated.” Mulder quickly changed the subject. “Tell me what do you make of this,” he pointed to the victim’s neck. “See the two wounds there, the bite marks? I think you guys have a vampire loose in Manhattan.”

Sherlock reached into his pocket for latex gloves, turning to Watson he muttered, “I don’t think that’s the only thing loose in Manhattan at the moment.”

************

The first meeting between Mulder and Scully and Sherlock And Watson can be read here: [Waiting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1946886)


	15. Could have been a knife.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #30 - Hurt's Over, Time to Comfort: Watson's been whumped (off-screen).  
> How does Holmes and/or another take care of the situation afterward?

“Oh my god, Watson!” Sherlock dropped his cricket bat and ran to her.

Watson, doubled over in pain, covered her face where the ball had hit her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to....” he placed a hand to her back. “Playing cricket in the house was a woefully bad idea...” He placed a finger to her chin, “Let me see, please ... I’m so sorry...”

Joan lifted her head, “It’s alright. I’m fine ...” Her voice was strained, her face was red and tears flowed. “I’ll probably have a black eye won’t I?”

Sherlock examined her, gently moving her hair from her face, trying not to tear up when he saw the injury he had caused her. Her right eye was quickly swelling shut. He led her to the sofa. “Hear, sit. I’ll be right back.”

Joan heard the gallop of his footsteps down the stairs to the kitchen and after a second or two, the same gallop up the stairs to her. He held a bag of frozen peas and a dishcloth.

“No time to make poultice. Sit back, please.”

He sounded more distressed than she was, and Joan patiently sat and tilted her head. Sherlock carefully placed the bag over her eye and when she winced, he winced too. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to hurt you. You know I never would intentionally. I’m sorry...” With each word his voice got softer and his face closer to hers. With his free hand he wiped away the involuntary tears of her right left eye, gently smoothing at her cheek, wishing he could do more.

“It’s alright. I’ll be okay.” She squinted at him and tried to smile. “It’s not that bad.... besides it’s not the first time you’ve hit me with a ball.”

He looked at her concerned until he remembered the tennis ball he’d lunged at her back so many years ago. With a sad smile, he lowered his forehead to her shoulder, “I’ll never understand why you didn’t leave ... why you’ve stayed these many years.”

Joan ran a hand through his hair and placed a small kiss by his ear. “You know why ...”


	16. No. Just No.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 31 was choose a previous JWP prompt. I chose -  
> Prompt #27 from July 2017 - Fix a Canon Scene. We all have those particular scenes in mind that we wish had gone differently.
> 
> This takes place first episode of season two. We mercifully never saw the scene where Mycroft seduces Joan, but this is how it should have happened:

Joan sat waiting for Sherlock amid the blandness of the current 221b decor, a blandness she decided that reflected the soul its current tenant. 

The devil was thought of and so he appeared. He strode into the room like an aged actor making a grand entrance for his nonexistent fans. 

‘The man does not own a comb’ was all Joan could think about as Mycroft slid in and sat close to her on the couch. He gave her his best “woe is me, I’ve such a rough life, feel sorry for me” look. 

Joan stared back blankly at the man wondering how it could be that he shared any sort of genetic material with Sherlock.

“You know, Joan,” his arm slid across the sofa cushions behind her back, “I understand better than anyone what a nightmare it is to live with Sherlock.” His unctuous tone unsettled her as much as his words. Mycroft moved his arm predatorily around her shoulders and smiled through his cheesy mustache. “There is no reason for us to suffer alone.”

The sight of him leaning in for a kiss turned her stomach. Joan pushed him forcefully away. “In your dreams Mycroft. I’d rather make out with Moriarty than you. And for the record, I enjoy living with Sherlock, so stay the hell away from us both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my opinion, Elementary has the worst incarnation of Mycroft. Ever. Case closed.


End file.
